


How Taking Care of a Kid Helps You Get the Guy

by microphoneMessiah



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Babysittingstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microphoneMessiah/pseuds/microphoneMessiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave gets stuck babysitting little D-Sprite. </p><p>Dave is an incompetent sitter; enter John to save the day.</p><p>Alternatively titled, "That One Where Dave Fails at Babysitting but John is Sort of Like a Mother Bird and Makes Everything Better with More than a Few Kisses Given to Lovely Blonde Boys"</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Taking Care of a Kid Helps You Get the Guy

You are Dave Stider and you are the worst babysitter to ever babysit. Period. That’s it. Do not pass go. Do not collect $100. Go directly to jail, you triple doubles rolling asshole.  
Honestly, you can’t figure out how you even got trapped with this job in the first place. You remember Lalonde asking you if you wanted to make some extra cash this weekend and of course you said yeah because you had been a little strapped for cash lately. Bro’s business had taken a dip since the holiday season had passed so the money wasn’t flowing in as well as it had before Christmas. Quick question though, who the fuck buys their loved one or whatever a smuppet for Christmas? You’re pretty sure there were a lot of dudes not getting laid the night before Christmas. Like, all through the house not a soul was fucking some chick in a blouse.

You make a mental note to write a “Night Before Christmas” rap later.

Anyway, being the idiot you were, you agreed to her offer. Fast forward time like a cheesy 80’s time skip, and here you are with one blonde-haired baby on your lap. Surprisingly enough, his name is also Dave, though his parents informed you his nickname is “Sprite”. You asked if this had anything to do with the soda and they just about died laughing.

Whatever.

Either way, you and D-sprite have been chilling on the couch for awhile. Little man seems to have taken a liking to your shades, touching yours and giggling all over the place. You can appreciate a baby who likes the finer things in life and oh! You take out that little pair of shades you had bought ironically from a Build-a-Bear Workshop. You’re not going to go into details why exactly you were there because, well, it was no one’s fucking business.

“I now declare you, Little Badass D-Sprite the Wicked.” You state and with that you place the miniature pair of shades on his face. Perfect fit. Kid’s a 100 times cooler already.

You both just sort of sit there, well, you sit there and D-Sprite clings to you in various ways you didn’t think he could. Doesn’t matter really, Bro had told you you were the same way as a munchkin. It’s all good. Until he starts crying. Lord, when this kid cries, he fucking cries.

You are Dave Strider and you don’t know what the hell you’re supposed to do.

Usually when this happens, you work your way through your best friends. Jade? Naw, she isn’t all that great with people after living on that island her whole life. Along with her uncanny ability to frighten people within a five mile radius by barking and/or growling at them. Barking at a baby?

You look down at D-Sprite who’s still bawling his little eyes out.

How about fuck no? Christ, who else? Lalonde, maybe. It was her fault you were here in the first place, after all. You grab your cell and jam her number into the keys. It rings for a minute before she picks up.

“I’m going to assume that you’re requiring my assistance?”

“Naw. Just wanted to shoot the breeze and see if you liked this new beat I made. It’s called, “a Baby is Crying it’s Ass Off and I Have No Idea What to Do so Maybe Lalonde Can Not Try to Lecture Me and Just Help Me Out for Once”. New techno pop jam that’ll make you wanna slap your Mom; it’s so good.”

“Witty. And as we both already know, it would not take your ‘pop jam’ to make me want to slap my mother. Well, I wouldn’t slap her, per say, but more or less-“

“Hey. The Point seems to be on the other line. It just wants to let you know that you missed it by a fucking mile, so congratulations. Let me just crack open some bubbly and we can toast to the fact you’re totally ignoring the point of this call to talk about your Mommy Issues.”

“What a charming attitude you’ve taken. If I had previously been considering helping you, I would most definitely have changed my mind after that little spiel. However, I did not change my mind at all because I never considered helping you.”

“What? Why the hell not?”

“Because, Mr. Strider, this is a learning opportunity. I will not always be there to bail you out when you get yourself into trouble, you know. So, take this a a chance to grow.”

“Rose, this isn’t fucking funny. I really need your help. There is snot and drool all over the place: on this couch, on the baby, on my shirt! Christ. It’s even on my shades.”

“As lovely an image that is, my sentiment still stands. Now, I must bid you a fond farewell as my mother seems to have just finished her passive-aggressive move against me and it is now my turn to strike.”

“Will you please forget about your Mom for two seconds and help me?”

You hear a soft sigh across the line.

“You truly are tiring, Dave. But fine. In order to silence the baby, did you try checking his diaper?”

And then you’re silent for awhile because wow, how did you not think of that?

“Thanks, Lalonde.”

“Of course. Good bye, Dave.” 

And with that she hangs up on you, leaving you alone with the baby. Okay, that’s cool. Time to check that diaper like it’s luggage going through airport security.

Wait. No. Ew, that sounds gross and creepy. You don’t want to fondle whatever disgusting crap is in there to check for bombs.

This was a horrible comparison on your part and you decide to strike it from your mind forever. Whoops. There it goes. You don’t even know what you were thinking about previously seeing as how you weren’t thinking about anything previously. 

Either way, it was time to change that diaper. You walked over to D-Sprite who, lord bless his soul, was still wailing with all the force his little lungs could manage. Scooping him up in an arm, you walked over to the hall closet. You found an old towel and laid it down on the floor before placing him on top. Okay, time to get down to business. You reached your hands forward to unlatch the sticky strips on the side.

Then the smell hit you.

Fuck. Your nose burned and you could swear you’re about to throw up. Huge chunks, all over the place.

No. You are a Strider, and Striders do not back down. You try to reach forward again but the smell just hits you harder.

Nope. This wasn’t happening. You could not make this happen. But D-Sprite was crying louder and you really needed this to get done. Oh God, this sucked. This really fucking sucked. What were you going to do? This thing was diabolic! Who in their right mind would ever agree to-

Oh.

Oh, yeah. That might work.

You pull out your cell again with a quickness and dial.

“Hey, Dave!”

“Sup, Egderp. How do you feel about kids?”

“Hmm. Kids are nice.” You can hear him smile through the phone. “Why do you ask?”

“Lalonde has got me babysitting this brat and I wanted to know if you wanted to come over.”

“Heheh, is a baby too much to handle for the cool that is Dave Strider?”

“No. I totally got this. Like, this thing is so got that it couldn’t possibly be any more got.”

You hear him laugh and it kind of makes you smile a bit. “Then I’ll just leave you to your infant.”

Wait. Fuck. No.

“Yeah, sounds good. I was just about to feed him dinner anyway. I’ve got flaming hot cheetos and fried chicken legs on the table.”

“What?” And John’s voice is so panicked that it’s hard for you to bite back a laugh. Hook, line, and sinker. “Dave! You can’t feed that to a baby! You’ll make him sick! Oh my god, he’ll choke, you asshat!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Egbert. What kind of baby doesn’t like cheetos and chicken?”

“Dave! That is really not okay! I am not going to sit here while you commit infanticide. I will be there in five minutes! Don’t touch anything.” And with that John promptly hung up.

You totally got him. Now he’ll rush over and see D-Sprite with his little load carrier full and change him. Then, he’ll probably end up feeding you both dinner, put Sprite to bed, and finally, if you play your cards right, sloppy makeouts as far as the eye can see.

You are a genius.

True to his word, Egbert is at your house right on the five. He’s out of breath, hair a bit russled and jacket slacked low on his arms; you assume he ran here since he lives just up the street.

“Where’s the baby?” He demands but you can tell he figures it out as soon as the smell hit’s his nose. His whole face withers and pales. “Did you realize his diaper is full?”

“Oh. Is that what that smell is?” Your tone is so overly sweet and innocent that you worry if he’ll catch on. He doesn’t.

“Yes, that is what that smell is. Give him here.” His tone is not amused and your urge to laugh is tested once again.

Carefully you pick D-Sprite up and hand him to John. “His name is Dave. No joke; I was surprised too. His nickname is Sprite, so I’ve taken to calling him D-Sprite to keep our names separate.”

John nods before disappearing into the bathroom with the baby. You let out a sigh and sit on the couch again. Ew. There’s still snot on it, but then again, there’s still snot on you too. You’ll let it go this time. Before long, John is back and D-sprite has gone back to that giggle little kid he was before. His fingers are shoved into John’s hair and John himself is just laughing and ruffling D-Sprite’s hair.

If you were your brother, you would say this moment is pretty damn kawaii.

**Author's Note:**

> Present for Waifu on Tumblr. It has been mostly untouched for a long time.
> 
> How do I Dave-centric?


End file.
